I uploaded (and even did a bit of editing on) pictures a few days ago in the hopes of typing out some excuse for a blog. The blogging hasn't happened, until now. But I've been keeping my camera out in the kitchen lately as I try to get in a photography (haha) groove and, predictably, I have even better pictures now that I want to share with you.

But first, a little recap on our glorious lives and the original pictures.

We've had unseasonably warm weather here the past few days. Plus temperatures, even. We've spent a good hour or so outside everyday. 

It's beautiful, but a little frustrating. We don't want to get the itch for winter to be over just yet. It's still January, after all. And we need to prepare ourselves for another 40 degrees colder before we're outa this stretch.

On the weekend we got dumped with another load of snow. The way it works in our small town is that it takes the town workers a good long time to plow out our side streets (like the one we live on) and usually by the time they get to it, we have more snow in the impending forecast. This year they've done a reasonably good job keeping things cleared (or we just haven't had too many large snowfalls) and even plowed out the roads the day after a snow. 

Until the weekend. It took them until yesterday to do the main street to the school and ours hasn't been touched. Everything is getting compacted, but it's too hard to walk around much before it does or with the icy mounds now out there. Must be just protocol that those lazy town workers (haha) sit around and drink coffee for a few days before dealing with our snow!

Joseph and John Paul have been busy entertaining themselves (and us!) with new make-believe games. Everyday they find some new and weird get-up to dress up in: winter toques, swimming goggles, swords and armour, and robes are favourite accessories with whatever worker hat they see fit to clad their heads with. 

Whether it's winter making them stir crazy or the little heat wave we're currently having, they've been "going to the beach" over and over and over again. They pack up Joseph's backpack with I'm not sure what, put on shoes, goggles, grab a blanket, and head off around the kitchen-livingroom circle. John Paul, especially, plays this game all by himself for minutes on end. It goes like this: "Go beach" he tells me; "Have fun!" I say; walks around the living-room and comes back; "Go beach fun" he tells me; walks again and again and again. He never seems to arrive at the beach or do beachy things, but it's all in the journey, I guess.

Another favourite is any way Joseph can think up to "save" people. Recently, John Paul will climb up on the organ bench, pound out his little tunes, and then turn with a smirky grin and "scared" face to request: "Save me!" Joseph bounds to the rescue (often in fireman or soldier apparel) and lifts the distressed organist to safety. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It never gets old.

With out little thaw recently, we had the rare pleasure of getting a few hours' worth of packing snow. We had time to build a snowman, Louie II; we built Louie I earlier in the winter, but Joseph decapitated him and he's now a two-ball pile of ice. He stayed as you see him for barely a couple hours before his nose and one eye drooped and his mouth fell out. This is always our plight with snomen. 

Joseph had suggested we make a bunch of snowmen, including a doctor for when the others fell apart. We didn't have enough time (and my belly is making it slightly uncomfortable to bend over and roll snowmen). Joseph then returned outside later in the day to a mouthless snowman: "Now he can't talk to me! I told you we should have made a doctor snowman too!" 

Our other offspring, currently unborn, is beginning to make him/herself felt a little. During an 18week appointment last week, my doctor informed me that I'd gained 10lbs since she last saw me, a mere month ago. I think I laughed and said something like: "Christmas." 

But seriously. Maybe I'm actually putting on muscle (heavier than fat, you know) with my 3x weekly prenatal "workouts". Just tell me I'm right and stop there. So I went and took a selfie in the bathroom mirror. And consoled myself that I didn't really look fat or pregnant. But I'll get there, don't you worry. It's the darn bedtime snacks or midnight munchies that get me, every time. I just have a huge appetite or think I do.

We still can't decide on a boys' name for this baby. Girls names, well, we've got at least two from previous agreements to choose from, but boys, boys are hard. Given that it's a 50-50 chance, we'll have to narrow it down sometime in the next 5 months. But that's loads of time, right?

Must sign off. I'm currently sitting on the bathroom counter keeping an eye on the bathers. This mostly involves repeatedly telling them not to stand up and not to dump water on the floor and not to put things full of water on the side of the tub. John Paul just took a tumble though, so I believe more parental supervision is in order. Time to get out.

Lord of the Dance

One of Don Cherry's favourite lines to say is: "His ways are mysterious indeed." This cannot be closer to the truth. Truly, no one can understand the mind of God, His ways, His methods. It is beyond our imagining.

Sometimes, however, this can lead to bewilderment, if not frustration. Our minds were created to know. Today's great patron saint, St. Thomas Aquinas, explains that: "Man’s ultimate happiness consists in the contemplation of truth, for this operation is specific to man and is shared with no other animals. Also it is not directed to any other end since the contemplation of truth is sought for its own sake" (Summa Contra Gentiles, book 3, chapter 37). We seek clarity. We seek truth. Ultimately we seek the Truth (God). We get dumbfounded when we don't understand something. Flabbergasted. Agog. Mystified, perplexed and even befuddled. I should close my thesaurus. Lest you get appalled or disconcerted.

These thoughts of seeking truth and understanding enter my mind sometimes as I leave the house on a lovely weekday afternoon. I'll have just finished my lunch and I'll be heading back to school for my usual chaotic afternoon of teaching, floor hockey, safety patrol, and archery. No rest for the wicked. Usually not even a bathroom break. As I leave the house I sarcastically say to Becca: "Well, I'm off to save the world." I say so on such days because I know that I have to teach dance. Dance. Me. With apologies to my King Henry VIII character I once played, this is not a dancer's leg. I head out the door and tromp to school. Not exactly with a sissone or waltz in my step.

The dance goes fine. Most of the young girls automatically love it, because they love dance. Interestingly enough, it's my tough little hockey playing boys who seem to enjoy it the most. They get to see me jumping around, or is that goofing around(?), and thus they get to, for a brief few moments, shed the composed cool guy attitude and jump around for the heck of it. They assemble, and scissor kick, and compete (always compete) against each other. It's fun. The next day I know they will have forgotten everything, as probably will I have. We'll practice again. There'll be a little assessment later. Then we'll forget it all over again.

And that's me saving the world.

The bewildering, puzzling, and stupefying part of this is that my busy life as a teacher leaves me virtually no time to spend on my catechism and sacramental prep duties at the church. Never you mind my degrees, training, and dedication to the faith, my dance teaching make me way too tired to care about catechism. Those grapevine steps have a price.

I'm left in a muddled state.

In reality I inwardly despise dance in this town. Every Wednesday night we trudge out to Mass. The church crowd is shockingly sparse. As I leave the church I have a habit of looking across the street to the Tisdale Dance Studio. The place is always packed with people. God is here. They are there. And I wonder... how is it that I'm the busy dance teacher, and not the catechism teacher? How is this God's will? His ways are mysterious indeed.

I'm not really complaining. It is my duty to feed my boys (...and wife). I am happy to have a job. Even if there are aspects I do not really enjoy, I try my best. Yes I am out of my element sometimes, and this is wearisome to me, but deep down I know that it is what I am supposed to do. And yet... why God? Why? Is it to teach me humility? Is it all part of some greater plan? Is it simply for obedience? Is it to somehow, unknowingly, help that one child get through a difficult time? I do not know. It is mysterious to me.

The words of the Charge of the Light Brigade enter my mind. To paraphrase Tennyson: It is not for me to reason why, but to do and die. In the end, perhaps the greatest happiness of man, the contemplation of truth, lies in that God Himself knows why. And we contemplate Him. Not us, our actions, feelings, or anything else. We contemplate Him. He knows best. And I simply need to know and understand that. Perturbed or not. And besides, It is not me who will save the world. It is Him. And there is nothing baffling, bemusing, or flustering about that.

Only amazing.

The Game of Life

It was a glorious Friday afternoon. The final bell had just rung, and I was out for my last crosswalk patrol of the week. An off-duty RCMP officer came by to pick up his child (whom I teach). In a sombre voice he informed a few teachers that there had been a shooting at a school in La Loche (Northern SK). When asked for he details he replied: "Let's just say nothing good happened there." One of our teachers began desperately seeking information on his phone, seeing as he has a friend who teachers in La Loche. Not a nice feeling, I'm sure. Thankfully his friend is ok.

Since then we have slowly been learning more and more details. This hasn't stopped the usual knee-jerk reactions. On one hand there was CNN immediately going on and on about guns, as if this was the one and only issue. Or the acting mayor of La Loche, whom out of great grief I'm sure, stated that he wants the school where the shooting occurred to be torn down and rebuilt. However, I think most people understand that the shooting goes much deeper than simply guns, and that to begin repairing lives will require more than ripping apart a building.

For my part, as a teacher in SK, there has been one idea on my mind a lot lately. Not to at all suggest that this is a sole issue with shootings (especially this recent one), but still though, it appears firsthand to me to be a significant issue. I'm talking about video games.

A little while ago I had a hunch. Though I teach 200 different students, there are a handful whose behaviour presents great challenges to me. I was wondering if there was a common theme. So I, perhaps sneakily, started up individual conversations with each of these students. We had nice chats, but then I brought up video games. In every instance it was true, these students were/are absolutely obsessed with video games. Often violent games. One told me he can't wait until school is out everyday, because then he races home to play for as long as he can. Another failed to eat breakfast that morning because he was too busy playing video games. I was told by one child, quite proudly in fact, that all he did on his Christmas break was play video games. I am sure many of the "good" kids at school play video games far too much as well, but for sure video games are a common theme amongst my more challenging students.

Undoubtedly video games can lead to violence and a distortion of reality. There have been many reports on this. For instance, the Sandy Hook shooter, we know, was obsessed with violent video games. As have been other shooters. I am not for a second saying this is the common piece to school violence, or that more school violence is imminent. All I am saying, from my perspective as a teacher, is that it is not pleasant to conduct a props improv game for drama class, and have, after a clear warning to stay away from violent themes, two of my students predictably start using a prop as part of a violent video game reenactment. I stop them in their tracks. They don't get beyond a few seconds. We chat about it after class. They say they simply were using the props to act out a favourite video game of theirs. And that the game isn't actually that bad. The situation is pretend, with imaginary non-existent characters. I deal with that, don't worry. But how predictable. When I say drama, they say video games.  Or in another example, I bring in an archery bow to demonstrate the need for upper body strength in a phys ed class. Suddenly there is student chatter that the bow, or me carrying the bow, looks very similar to something in the insatiably popular Minecraft game. It's the first thing that comes to mind. All I am saying is that this is an obsession with far too many young people.

I guess I'm insinuating a lot of things, but not really saying anything definite. I'm mentioning violence, the shocking popularity of video games at school, and bad behaviours that I encounter everyday. Yet I'm not really connecting the dots, am I? I just wonder... in the aftermath of another bloody tragedy at a school, a school in my very own province, that if we really want to end violence and unhappiness, why look first to laws, buildings, and social programs? Shouldn't we first look closer to home? More specifically at the distorted garbage devoured by our young people, passed off as gaming.

The lives our children live is not a game.

Flag at half mast today.

United We Kneel

Becca and I dragged the boys to Mass (almost literally) the other evening. As we arrived we soon realized something was wrong. The parking lot was actually half full (or was that half empty?). On a Wednesday. However, we soon remembered that following Mass there was supposed to be some diocesan workshop. I still have visions of people working in a nice cozy shop while building various handy dandy wooden objects when I hear the word workshop. I don't doubt such a workshop would be far more productive than a diocesan workshop. Regardless, there the people were at Mass on a Wednesday night. Never mind there were only three people the night before at Mass. Something just wasn't right, though. These, these people. The bigwigs of the parish, if you will. The parish council members. The "ministers" of everything. The ministers of hospitality. The ministers of propaganda, er, social justice. I still wait, though, to see a toilet cleaning ministry. They could have a sign up day for it. Call it Super Bowl Sunday. Anyway, at Mass John Paul was extremely wild, and ended up in the back of the church for most of it. We received some glares from some people. Most likely from the ministers of keeping kids quiet. At the consecration the usual daily Mass'rs knelt, the others stood. Some have given our priest a very hard time for insisting people kneel for the consecration. Following Communion the daily Mass'rs knelt again, the others stood. It was just a bizarre Mass. A tense Mass.

What makes it so striking is the emphasis these parishioners, and dare I say diocese, have placed on unity. The obvious example being that people have been told repeatedly to stand once they receive Holy Communion, until the last person has received. Mortal sin or no mortal sin, go receive Communion and then stand in your pew and watch everyone else, and we'll have unity. Sometimes I wonder if the Sacrament of Unity is more of Unity as a Sacrament. No matter. Just blame those who cling to outdated notions of kneeling down and praying after receiving Our Lord Jesus Christ. Again, it seemed like a tense Mass. When liberals worship with orthodox Catholics do we really believe this is so wonderfully unifying? The irony in all this is that the churches in our area are as divided as ever. Perhaps, might I suggest, a new diocesan workshop (get those elves building toys images out of my head...). A workshop examining the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas.

Aquinas, in I, Q. 11, Art, 3, gives one of my favourite arguments demonstrating that God is one. Aquinas explains that God by definition must be perfect. Now if there were many gods then "something therefore would belong to one which did not belong to another. And if this were a privation, one of them would not be absolutely perfect; but if a perfection, one of them would be without it. So it is impossible for many gods to exist." The very idea of oneness is, then, identified with perfection. Our unity, likewise, demands perfection. The more perfect and saintlike we are, the more we are unified with God. Likewise the less perfect we are, or in Aquinas terms, the greater the privation, the less we are one with God. Perfection and unity are inescapable. This perhaps explains why the desire for unity amongst more liberal Catholics is farcical. You cannot have unity while disobeying the teachings of the Church. I've said it before, God does not bless disobedience. Unity is found in sanctity. Unity is found in an unquenchable desire for the Eucharist. Unity is found in rejoicing, living, striving for, and evangelizing the teachings of the Church. Unity is found insofar as our little souls increase in their capacity for grace. Unity is found in the perfection of God. Anything else is simply a privation.

- - -

So we return to our little church here in town. A few days later there John Paul and I were in the basement during Mass. He was uncontrollable, again. Ironically we headed for the basement just as our priest was reading a letter from the bishop. I think it was on refugees. Or on the current Week for Unity. Or both. As I walked John Paul around I glanced and saw some copies of printed power points. They were left overs from the workshop. I flipped through them casually. Slide after slide took me back to my days at Redeemer. Talk about discipleship. Seeing the good in everyone. Responsible ministry. Unity... Do you find this challenging? I find it fluff. Instead, how about: "Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"? I held John Paul while we both looked at the papers. He seemed disinterested. So did I. We went back upstairs for the remainder of Mass. I had to somewhat hold him down during the consecration. I told him it was very special. And I'll tell him again next time. And the next. It will sink in eventually. John Paul will not learn perfection from me. He will not learn it by looking at those around him standing during the consecration, either. He will learn it from kneeling down, at this special time, and having Jesus, perfection itself, teach it to him.

Wouldn't that be perfect?

Ordinary Time

We are getting back into a routine and normal life again after Dan's two weeks off for Christmas. Somehow those two weeks switched the boys (and us) right into vacation mode and it's been tough slugging. John Paul regularly came to me half crying during the first few days back to work, asking "Daddy?" And we're tired again. Those mornings we finally slept in on the holidays were golden. Now the boys wake up early again, even though they don't have to. And so, too, their mom.

At the same time, it's good to have a bit more of a routine going on. We play and read and cook and clean. We spend some mornings with friends, but most of our time is at home. It's cold and snowy out so although we go outside every afternoon, we aren't spending hours and hours out there. Joseph fondly remembers, and talks about, summer and the water gun fights, park times, and long days outside. Even though he loves winter and skating, he's also looking very much forward to summertime again.

Joseph is growing up: four is a great age. I love his independence: the way he can spend an hour playing quietly by himself if I need a quick afternoon nap and come to me with pages of letters he's written or Lego he's built; the way he asks for rags when I'm cleaning and puts himself and John Paul to work scrubbing dirty spots on the floor or dusting; the way he will occasionally comforts John Paul when he's sad or mad, because Mommy's making supper, and reads him a book.

Four seems to be the perfect combination between independent and yet still cuddly and loving. He needs us, but Joseph loves to show off his skills. Now that he knows how to write a number of letters (the ones in his name, plus a few others) he believes he doesn't need any more teaching. He writes lists and letters for us, which often include the letters HOT many, many times (we have no idea why). That, combined with the fact that he can count to 20 (almost consistently) and has counted to 100 with a little guidance a few times and he probably believes he's ready for them to hire him at the elementary school.

After the holidays, Joseph came home telling us proudly: "I told my cousins: three Persons, one God" while showing us his three fingers ready to make the sign of the cross. He's an eager listener and loves to hear stories of the saints over and over, especially gory ones. St Dennis (who I don't know much about) has a picture with his head in his arms so, of course, was super interesting. When I showed him picture of his patron, St Andre's, Oratory in Montreal and his tomb, Joseph was most interested in seeing pictures of the inside of the tomb (um...).

Joseph runs into the living room first thing in the morning, a huge smile on his face...
Joseph: "Guess what! I had the goodest dream ever!"
Daddy: "What did you dream about?"
Joseph: "I learned to run faster!"

Joseph spends his days keeping busy with little projects. I taught him how to make his bed and most mornings he's okay to make it himself now, with a little reminding (!). He was so proud the first time he took it into his hands to do it all by himself, unasked. It's the little things! He likes to think he can make soup all by himself because he stirs the pot as I put in the ingredients. I keep telling him that one of these days I'm just going to stay in bed because he will be able to take care of John Paul and do all the cooking. One of the boys' Christmas presents was another box of Magna Tiles. Joseph builds towers, buildings, bridges, houses, whatever with great care... and John Paul wrecks them.

Speaking of John Paul: our crazy, talking, running, singing, mood-swinging little guy. It's hard to believe that in a few short months he'll be two. What a challenging couple years of life he's brought us! But so much joy, too. Over Christmas, John Paul's favourite thing to do was pretend he was going to sleep with Joseph and Daddy at night. The pretense was so he could sing Christmas carols in bed with them at night. His favourites: "Angels we have heard on high," and "Little Drummer Boy" or more specifically, the "gloooooooria" and the "rum, tum, tum".

John Paul loves to sing and make music. Well, it runs in the family. We love it when he wanders around the house or plays quietly all the while singing to himself. He and Joseph do renditions of entire Veggie Tales songs for me in the mornings. "The Hairbrush Song" is a favourite and John Paul loves to add "dee end" when he's all finished. Dan and Joseph both have special, silly little songs they sing to/about John Paul. Joseph sings: "Big, fat, jolly, good baby!" while patting John Paul's belly. He's done it for months and months and John Paul loves it! But recently, whenever I've joined in the fun or used the songs, John Paul is indignant and tells me to "shhhhh, Do-do song" (Joseph's song). Same with Dan's song. It's for them to sing for him and definitely not me.

Around the beginning of the Christmas holidays, John Paul started stringing more than one word together. And being proud of his new-found knowledge began to assume we understood everything he said (and get angry when we didn't, but we won't talk about that). One of his favourites is to pretend he's praying with us (when he's not being a little heathen or screaming "rosry" or ignoring us while eating his food as we pray). He folds his hands and makes mumbling noises, then finishes with a big "Aaaamen!" And although he can't say all the words, our not yet two year old can count to 10. The sounds come out clear enough that we get what he means and despite an occasional pause trying to remember and say "six" he's pretty amazing.

While changing John Paul...
Mommy: "You have a cute little bum!"
John Paul: "NO! Big!"
Mommy: "You have a cute big bum?!"
John Paul: *smiles and nods vigorously*

******************** 

John Paul: "Dubbadee, dubbadaa"

******************** 

John Paul: "Do-Do" (Joseph)
Us: "Jo-Jo?"
John Paul: "NO! Do-Do"
Us: "Joseph?"
John Paul: *nods and smiles*

******************** 

One day...
John Paul: "Ayn-ooo" (Thank you)
The next day...
Us: "Ayn-ooo, John Paul"
John Paul: "NO! Thay-ooo!"
Us: "Thank you, John Paul"

Points to Ponder: Idol Thoughts

1) Idol Thoughts
Our diocese, in it's never ending attempt to be hip and cool, has just come out with a new competition. This competition is very exciting. I'm sure people who see the name will equally get a buzz out of it. Protestants especially. Announcing to you: Catholic Idol! Yes, that's right. Catholic Idol! Because you knew all along that secretly Catholics love their idols. A competition to see who is the top Catholic Idol. The judges are believed to be Johann Damascus, H. Adrian, and, as the judge who hates everything, Marty Luther. The talent for the competition, I'm sure, will be iconic. Can we just crown Our Lady now? Surely there could be no other top Catholic Idol.

But we'll just have to wait and see. Those zany auditions take place later this month. I'm sure it will be hilarious, with wannabe idolaters singing horrible renditions of Table of Plenty and Awesome God. The finals will be in April. Protestants are forbidden from the event for fear of white-washing the competition.




2) Bowieing Out
David Bowie has died at the age of 69. In the end, no matter what points we try to prove, or what ungodly mission we accomplish while on earth, we end up alone with Jesus, face to face, meeting our judgment. I was thinking about that the other day when I saw the picture of Barack Obama "crying" over the latest U.S. violence (how's gun control working in your hometown of Chicago, btw?). One minute he's crying. The next he's vetoing the movement to defund Planned Parenthood, which in effect guarantees hundreds and hundreds of thousands of babies can continue to be murdered right in their mother's wombs. In the end, as I said earlier, everyone meets Jesus, face to face. You. Me. Obama. Bowie. God always has the final say.


3) Tom Brady Meet Tim Horton
You thought Bowie was weird? Now I've heard it all. Tom Brady has apparently never had coffee. Suddenly I think most people don't admire his life after all.


4) Chirp of the Week
Our premier Brad Wall, the most popular in Canada (and the only non-socialist), recently responded to a hunger strike at a Regina jail. The prisoners were unhappy with the quality of food. Wall's response: "If you really don't like the prison food, there's one way to avoid it, and that's don't go to prison."


5) You Can't Get There From Here
So a bridge near Nipigon, ON, more or less broke down over the weekend. Now anyone who's ever driven around there knows that the detour involves going around Lake Superior (even into the US). That's a looooong ways. I guess they shouldn't have hired Spanish engineers to build a bridge in Northern Ontario. But my theory is that it was actually Brad Wall's doing. Take out the bridge and Saskatchewan can't send it's truckloads of money to Ontario and Quebec anymore.


6) Back to School
I have such a hard time returning to work after the Christmas break. It doesn't help that January is so busy. I've set up a recess floor hockey league. We have archery now after school. I was in charge of the school assembly last Friday. Report card marks are due in 3 weeks. Catechism has started back up. Whine Whine Whine. Typical teacher. It's still fun. Anyway, I also was in charge of our school display this month. I'm not too visually artistic. But I tried my best!

 7) The Boys
Here I am babbling on, when everyone knows that people only come to this blog to see pictures of the boys. Sorry, I only have a couple from my ipad. And they're a couple weeks old. That's all you get.

Joseph with his first real hockey stick ever. I told him there were goals in it. He was mesmerized with the thought. When John Paul picked it up Joseph loudly told him: "Be careful John Paul! There are goals in there."

And here's John Paul being, well, John Paul. What a goof.

Peace Out, Man

Some Catholic feast days align very well with secular holidays. Others not so much. Thanksgiving, a secular holiday, seems to go well with our Catholic liturgy. After all, Eucharistic literally means thanksgiving, and so it is quite appropriate to have a Mass of thanksgiving on the second Monday of October. St. Patrick's Day, on the other hand, is a day completely destroyed by the secular world. For most Catholic places the feast of St. Patrick is normally an optional Lenten commemoration. Not exactly a rip-roaring liturgical party. For the secular world it is a day filled with outrageous immoral behaviour, all in the name of St. Patrick.

One feast day that appears to increasingly not jive with the secular world is the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God. This holy day of obligation falls on January 1st. One would think that with a little catechisis Catholics would easily acknowledge why they go to Mass on this day. But unfortunately when Mass begins with the priest saying: "We are gathered here first of all to ring in a new year, and also to honour Mary..." then you know where this is going.

For the past several years I've heard nothing but confusion at Mass on this Solemnity. The majority of the talk is on the new year. Then there's the talk about Mary. Mary as an example. I have nothing against saying our Blessed Mother is an example. But by golly why the theology-phobia? Mary, Mother of God. Oh the things that could be said! Talk of the Council of Ephesus. Introducing the concept of the communication of idioms. The two natures of Christ. Mary's fiat. Theotokos. Linking everything to salvation. Nope. Mary is a good person. We honour her today. She loved peace. And so let me talk about peace, while the choir hums peace is flowing like a river. Well not this year. Those meany Millette choir people had the audacity to sing such hymns as O Sanctissima and Gentle Virgin Mother. I'm sure the general thought was: Those Millettes will be sorry when peace starts setting all the captives free, and they're left behind!

In the end, the Solemnity of Mary Mother of God needs an injection of theology. We can't scrape by on feelings, misguided talks of New Years, good examples, and world peace. We need to hear the story of our salvation. Because we need to be saved. The result of our theology-deprived Solemnity has been smaller and smaller crowds every year. Last year, even with the Millettes present, I estimated the average age of the sparse crowd to be 74ish. It was more of the same this year. Souls need substance, not sappiness. Otherwise, why show up? Oh to hear this preached: The Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, is a Holy Day of Obligation in Canada. And here's why... Instead it's: Peace man, and let it begiiiiiiin with mmmmeeeeeeeee! 

Peace out, man.